


Sea Change

by GirlKnownSomewhere



Category: The Monkees (Band), The Monkees (TV)
Genre: 1970s, Awkwardness, Band Fic, F/M, Ficlet, One Shot, Reunions, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 11:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlKnownSomewhere/pseuds/GirlKnownSomewhere
Summary: Peter and Ann bump into each other while both are coincidentally living in northern California in the mid-1970s.





	Sea Change

**Author's Note:**

> So this is me kicking myself for not realizing that Ann and Peter were living in NorCal at the same time until a month after I posted Shades of Gray. Had I known this earlier, I would have probably included a fourth chapter or written the conclusion to the mini-fic differently, lol. As it is, I couldn't stop imagining what it might have been like for the two to run into each other while in the same area, so I had to put the scenario into words. I did retcon a couple of things already mentioned in SoG, but for the most part, I think the ficlet still works fine on its own. I also moved up Christine Hinton's death three years because I still can't figure out the exact reason Peter and Reine originally moved up north in real life, lol. And if you're a fan of Ann, you'll notice I'm continuing to write out the existence of her douchey first husband (which I'm sure she would theoretically appreciate, heh).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything of the Monkees or Ann Moses' likeness

One-shot: Sea Change

San Francisco, March 1973

Ann stepped out of the orange taxi in one of her old pin-striped work suits from her prime days of Tiger Beat. Except she wasn’t at Tiger Beat anymore, and she wasn’t even in LA. After submitting her resignation over the holidays, the writer-editor focused on her new year plans of moving up north for a completely different change of pace. Figuring she could afford a vacation after 6 years of covering every pop band in town, Ann spent most of January visiting her parents back home in Anaheim before starting the next episode of life. With her stellar portfolio, resume and name recognition, she assumed it wouldn’t be much of a challenge to land a new gig in San Fran. But she apparently hadn’t considered how much stingier some magazine heads would be with the salaries compared to Chuck. She also wasn’t used to feeling like practically a nobody in the foggy city. She sighed as she held her town bag on her shoulder and headed into the office building for her fourth job interview since moving three weeks ago. 

Sitting in front of Sunset Magazine’s editor’s desk, Ann waited silently as he skimmed through her portfolio of articles in Tiger Beat, Monkee Spectacular, NME and even a couple from Rhythm & News. She tried not to pay notice to some minor perspiration forming on her palms as she gripped her sunglasses in her lap. After what felt like forever (but was really just five minutes), the slightly older man looked up at her.

“…You know we’re home & gardening, right? Not exactly the entertainment field,” he reminded.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Ann insisted. “Actually, the front lobby of my old apartment complex used to carry your issues, so I’m really familiar—”

“Your writing style’s a bit…fun,” he commented while glancing at one of her ‘at home’ pieces on Mike & Phyllis.

“That’s just the Tiger Beat features. If you look at my NME column or maybe Rhythm—”

“How much were you making before you left?” The publisher interrupted again.

Ann paused, not expecting him to ask about her salary already. “Oh, um…$28K by the time I resigned.”

He squinted in consideration, not looking entirely impressed with the answer. “Yeah…I could get a graduate with a journalism degree for half that. Maybe ¼ if they’re naïve enough.” 

Ann straightened her posture a bit, already familiar with this reasoning for not being interested in hiring her. “Well…not to toot my own horn, but I am a recognizable face…I could get you some easy press on top of writing and editing.” 

“I doubt it. Even junior high kids are listening to Zeppelin and Sabbath these days,” he countered.

Ann gave another pause, not liking how this was going. “Well, I’m fine with not being hired as head editor right away, I could start as associate or—”

“Babe, I couldn’t even get you a gig as a typist here.”

She didn’t bother to hide her annoyance anymore. “Why did you ask me to come in if you weren’t interested in the first place?”

He just shrugged. “Wanted to see what you look like.”

She looked and felt irritated at the whole exchange. “…I guess I won’t waste anymore of your time,” she said standing, and placing her glasses on top of her head and her bag back on your shoulder. She noticed the editor-in-chief light a cigarette as she was moving away from the desk. While walking to the door, she took a quick glance at the writers and editors working in the office. “By the way, when I was at Tiger Beat, almost 75% of the staff was women. I have a feeling it might feel a little overwhelming in such a testosterone heavy environment anyway,” she quickly called over to the superior’s desk before exiting.

Just outside the building, a rather bohemian looking young man holding a guitar case was in the middle of arguing with another man on the street corner.

“Joe, man, I thought we made an agreement? I get this corner Tuesdays and Thursdays, and you Mondays and Wednesdays.”

“It is Wednesday!”

“No it’s not, it’s only Tuesday—”

Right as Ann opened the front entrance door to find another cab, the younger man’s back bumped into her side. She gasped in surprise, and he turned around once he felt her presence.

“Sorry, I—Oh, whoa. Annie?!”

Ann looked up to instantly recognized the face behind the voice. “…Peter?” She rendered herself stunned at the image of her once close friend Peter currently in front of her. His long hair that she remembered from the last few times she’d run into him was presently in a loose bun, and he still wore the beard. His clothes, currently an old wool sweater, sweatpants and sandals, looked well worn and about to be beyond their expiration date so to say. As she got a decent look at his face again, she could spot that the whites of his eyes were a little pinker than normal. “Oh my God…” She instantly let out without much thought and a little more baffled than she probably meant.

“When was the last time you wore that suit? Still looks great!” He exclaimed.

Ann broke out of her trance and was briefly impressed he remembered that she hasn’t worn this outfit since 1967. “Oh, um—”

“What brings you to the golden city?” He asked still smiling.

“Oh…a job interview actually,” she said pointing to the building they were next to.

Peter stood for a few seconds in pondering. “…Did I dream you saying you were thinking of medical school?”

Ann felt impressed again at him remembering their last conversation over a year ago. “No…that’s still in the back of my mind. Rochelle and Laudy just put up a pretty convincing argument that I shouldn’t give up journalism right away since I’m in another big city…” She explained.

“Ah—” He then suddenly tripped backwards over his guitar case that Ann now noticed had somehow made it to the ground since they began talking. She grabbed his arm and pulled him forward carefully. Something about his surprised reaction and smile made her sense he might not be completely sober and unintentionally began staring.

“I’m not homeless,” he bluntly stated as if reading her mind.

Ann blinked a couple of times to comprehend the statement and then felt a bit embarrassed at her lack of subtlety currently. “Oh, I didn’t thi—”

He then suddenly tripped forward, with Ann awkwardly holding his upper arms, now convinced he was on something. “…I think I should go home with you.”

Peter’s brows rose slightly, and a smile formed showing amusement and surprise. Realizing her wording, she quickly shook her head and clarified. “I mean like dropping you off at your house. Or…apartment?” She questioned, not sure exactly what his living situation was.

“Nah, it’s a weekday,” he argued. “Got to work—”

Ann then felt him against her again as a large crowd hurriedly rushed past them. “I’m not sure you’re…in the right state to perform in public currently,” she revealed carefully.

“State? Like California?” He asked in a confused voice, though showed he was joking, before picking up his guitar.

The writer let out a sigh and tried not to look as worried as she felt. “Let’s find a cab,” she said, grabbing his wrist and began walking. 

“What? Where’s your Pontiac?” He asked legitimately confused this time.

“Oh…I had to sell my car last week because I’m still looking for work…” She explained a little self-consciously.

Peter looked slightly shocked at her reply. “Seriously? Ralph and Chuck are pretty cool guys, they should’ve given you a referral.”

Ann winced at the names of her former bosses, now reminded of a secret Laudy told her a few days after she quit the magazine. “Yeah…Chuck and Ralph turned out to not be as great as I always thought they were.”

Peter nodded a bit as they continued to wander on. “How’s your harmony? I could always use a second voice with my compositions,” he suggested lightly with a small smile.

Ann turned to face him and smiled in appreciation. “Thanks, but you know I have stagefright. That’s why I’m behind the typewriter. Or backstage,” she reminded just as lightly.

The musician squeezed her hand gently. The gesture made her realize she wasn’t holding his wrist anymore and he had switched to them holding hands. Twenty minutes later the two old friends were in the back of a taxi. “Where do you live?” Ann asked as she closed her door.

Peter leaned forward and pointed to the windshield. “Head up to Fairfax.”

“…You live that far out of the city?” She asked uncertain. He just looked back neutrally as the car began to move. “Why are you on this side of town?” She then asked a little skeptically.

“A lot more people walking around downtown. Well, that’s what Reine insisted, anyway,” was all he explained with bit of an edge. The name suddenly reminded her of his girlfriend and also his daughter.

“I had no idea you guys moved up north,” Ann continued. “What brought that on?”

Peter’s face softened a little before he calmly revealed: “Christine died last year.”

Ann recognized the name as Dave Crosby’s girlfriend and Reine’s close friend and once groupie co-heart. “Oh God…I’m so sorry,” Ann consoled in dismay. “Have you seen Dave too?”

“Yes, he actually moved upstate before we did. But he’s by the bay for the yacht,” he detailed. “…He took the death pretty badly.”

“Of course…” Ann let a pause linger before slowly adding, “How…”

“Car crash,” Peter answered plainly.

The cause of death instantly reminded her of her own good friend’s fatal fate only four years earlier.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you with short hair,” Peter noticed.

Ann looked up to him as she was brought out of her brief trance. She hadn’t thought about it, but now that he mentioned it, her current cut that stopped just about an inch above her shoulders might be the shortest she’s had her hair since before meeting the Monkees.

“I like it,” he smiled in approval.

She smiled back sweetly. “Thanks, Pete.”

At Peter’s current flat, Ann sloppily opened the door with his key while the guitarist lazily laid an arm around her shoulder and they stumbled into the room. When they left the taxi, Peter suddenly felt light-headed, much to Ann’s alarm, and she semi-assisted him upstairs. Now inside, Ann let out a cough at the prominent scent of weed and something else she couldn’t place. Peter then dropped himself on the couch and closed his eyes. _‘Is this what a withdrawal looks like?’_ Ann thought before looking around the tiny apartment. It looked even more run down than the Venice condo the three were living in last time. As her eyes made it to the kitchen, she saw some plates in the sink and other miscellaneous items on counters. When she spotted a full trash bin next to the dishwasher, she quickly recognized two brown beer bottles peeking out at the top. She heard a groan and turned around to see Peter sit upright and reach toward the small coffee table in front of him. Expecting him to grab the tall blue glass on the left of the table, her eyebrows rose when he went for what looked like a sippy cup and took a swig. 

He put the cup back down and ran a hand over his face while exhaling. Peter leaned against his palm while his elbow was propped on his knee. “Not exactly a penthouse compared to your place, huh, miss big city lady?” He joshed.

Ann’s mind was blank for a moment while she tried not to show her worriment at the present condition and situation. “Oh, I’m not actually living in the city…I can’t afford it yet. I found a place in Cupertino.”

“Ah. Bummer,” he expressed. “We could’ve carpooled if you were farther north.”

“Yeah…” She nodded reluctantly in agreement.

“Or maybe we can grab lunch when you find work in San Fran.”

But before she could reply, Peter mumbled a “sorry,” and rushed out of the room looking rather pale. She vaguely heard a burp as he went out of sight and she currently wondered what was going on. Holding her bag still on her shoulder, she went to the living room window and looked outside to see a dirty alley. She hoped that the other occupants in the building were fellow…struggling hippies and not any possible criminals. It had been a while since Ann was familiar enough with regular drug users to recognize if this was normal behavior. She knew Peter could hold his own at an all-nighter and has had his share of experimentation, but she didn’t see him as the type to get interested in the really harmful substances like cocaine or heroin. Then again, maybe weed and booze was all it took to get this out of whack. Who knows what liquid is really in that sippy cup.

Right then, Peter entered back into the room, this time with the sweater absent and his top half only covered by a white T-shirt. “I seem to be having trouble starting the week,” he attempted with a light smile. 

“It’s…fine,” Ann claimed awkwardly.

“Turns out it’s hard even getting a job bussing tables once people find out you sat behind bars,” he added just as lightly.

Ann then remembered reading about him spending three months in an Oklahoma jail for holding hash. “Oh…right…” She said trying not to grimace.

He took a big breath before sitting back down on the couch and taking a drink from the regular sized blue glass on the table this time. Ann held a consistent arched eyebrow as Peter laid against the couch with his eyes closed.

“I—”

Suddenly the front door opened again and in came Reine in her usual sunglasses and dark clothes. She looked clearly surprised to see both of them in the room until she noticed Peter’s present state, and instantly switched to bothered. “Oh, Jesus Christ, Peter.”

As she stormed over to the couch she shot at Ann: “What, are you a stalker now?”

Not expecting the rude comment, Ann stood taken aback and silent. Peter leaned up in defense for her.

“Hey, Reine. Annie’s new in town, give her a break—”

“I can’t be the only one making an effort for work, this is getting ridi—”

“I was making an effort until…”

While the couple began arguing, Ann tried to discreetly move to the front door again.

“This is bullshit! If I wanted to shack up with a bum musician, I could’ve just stayed in the Valley. I’m starting to wonder why I didn’t…”

Reine’s outburst brought Ann’s attention back to the pair. Peter gave her an apologetic smile rather than respond to his girlfriend. 

“I think I should head out…nice to see you—”

“Yeah, whatever,” Reine retorted abruptly before going into the bedroom in a huff. Peter gave Ann another smile before following the former into the other room. The blonde stuck by the front door for an additional minute, not sure if she should slip out or wait to give Peter a legitimate goodbye. As she considered her options, Reine hurried back in again. Her sunglasses and jacket gone and now showing her brown blouse and black denim pants. “I thought you left?”

Ann shook her head slightly to compose herself. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’ll—”

“You know I’ve never been able to figure out Peter’s obsession with you,” the brunette claimed, stopping in front of her and leaning against the door frame. The reporter stood still, not wanting to respond to that statement. The fact that Reine used an extreme word like ‘obsession’ rather than something like ‘fascination’ not lost on her either. “And I know it’s not sex, otherwise we’d see you around a lot more,” she continued.

Ann just slightly shrugged uncertainly. “Don’t know what to tell you, really…”

Reine contemplated while looking at her. “Or maybe it’s the fact that you haven’t put out might be why he likes you so much…”

Ann gave an uneasy look and glanced to the door at that suggestion.

“Though with Peter’s tendencies, I’m not sure what use he’d have with a prude.”

“I think I’ll go—”

“Hey, Annie,” Peter interrupted walking back in and smiling. “Remember that time I stopped by your place and we—”

“Probably not the best time to reminisce, Pete,” she cut him off while looking at his face, but could still feel Reine glaring at her through her peripheral vision. With her own smile, Ann gave him a wave while trying not to look as uncomfortable as she felt. She grabbed the door handle and turned it, when she looked back to Reine one more time. “Sorry to bother you…” While closing the door behind her, she faintly heard a baby’s cry, and wondered how long Hallie was left in the house alone since both Peter and Reine returned at the same time. Her worry grew as she heard something break on the floor above theirs and hoped the worst for Peter had already come.


End file.
